Could 40 be the new 39?

By Jon Dawson / Columnist

Published: Wednesday, January 16, 2013 at 09:40 PM.

Since I came to it on my own, I think I should be able to use it, because frankly, Ol’ Larry is doing OK with the Benjamins.

On second thought, since Larry David is bald, he should probably reap the rewards of the “follically challenged” empire. If I received any royalties from “follically challenged,” it would be like Michael Bolton making money off “When a Man Loves a Woman.”

(For the record, I realize the Michael Bolton scenario has already happened; I just choose not to acknowledge or accept it.)

Although my rather bulbous head is still covered with enough hair to get a herd of alpacas through a Wisconsin winter, a few gray hairs are starting to mix in with the predominantly lush, auburn locks. I told God a long time ago I wouldn’t complain about going gray as long as the hair didn’t fall out.

Also, I see a lot of commercials about guys who — for some reason — need to take a pill just to be able to sit outside in a tub. I’m more of an indoor shower guy myself, so — as for now — I’m not worried about going bald or being able to sit on the edge of a cliff in an antique tub while the sun sets.

As for my friends who’ve already gone over to the other side, it’s about a 50-50 split between those who handled it well and those who gave up and started buying John Mayer albums. Maybe the best way to figure out how I’m handling 40 is to compare myself to some famous people who are also turning 40 this year:

Me vs. Dane Cook: We both have giant foreheads and look like a petty thief who got off on a technicality, but he’s turned his mediocre talent into a lucrative career. Advantage — Cook.

If, like me, you went to ECU, get a friend to help you with the math. If nothing untoward happens between now and 11:42 p.m. tomorrow, I’ll be turning 40.

Mid-life should be a time of reflection, but for better or worse, I’ve always attempted to live in the now. Cher’s torso was still a spry 79-years-old when she tried to “Turn Back Time” in 1989. If she could have turned back time, she might have thought twice about getting that life-sized tattoo of Hervé Villechaize on her back.

Luckily, Cher’s current beau is a Corinthian leather salesman from Newark.

Aside from brief dizzy spells that cause me to wander off topic from time to time, turning 40 isn’t turning out to be as traumatic as I’ve been led to believe it would be. I wasn’t cool when I was 18, so growing older hasn’t necessarily made me feel older.

I’ve yet to have the urge to eat supper at 4:30 p.m., unless we’re talking Early Bird Special and then all bets are off.

Physically, I don’t feel that much different. The other night, Tax Deduction No. 2 (age 2.5) walked up to me and said “whee whee,” which means she wants to be tossed in the air while yelling “WHEE! WHEE!”

Seeing this, Tax Deduction No. 1 (age 8) requested the same treatment and I obliged. I was happy with the knowledge I could still throw 4-foot 3-inch TD No. 1 up in the air without breaking any of her bones or — more importantly — mine.

As of this writing, my advancing years haven’t resulted in any signs of baldness. However, as a precaution, I’ve never made fun of the follically challenged.

After typing “follically challenged” just now I thought it might make a good bumper sticker, T-shirt or novelty comb. I typed the phrase into the Google search engine only to discover that Seinfeld/Curb Your Enthusiasm creator Larry David apparently claimed “follically challenged” a few years ago.

Since I came to it on my own, I think I should be able to use it, because frankly, Ol’ Larry is doing OK with the Benjamins.

On second thought, since Larry David is bald, he should probably reap the rewards of the “follically challenged” empire. If I received any royalties from “follically challenged,” it would be like Michael Bolton making money off “When a Man Loves a Woman.”

(For the record, I realize the Michael Bolton scenario has already happened; I just choose not to acknowledge or accept it.)

Although my rather bulbous head is still covered with enough hair to get a herd of alpacas through a Wisconsin winter, a few gray hairs are starting to mix in with the predominantly lush, auburn locks. I told God a long time ago I wouldn’t complain about going gray as long as the hair didn’t fall out.

Also, I see a lot of commercials about guys who — for some reason — need to take a pill just to be able to sit outside in a tub. I’m more of an indoor shower guy myself, so — as for now — I’m not worried about going bald or being able to sit on the edge of a cliff in an antique tub while the sun sets.

As for my friends who’ve already gone over to the other side, it’s about a 50-50 split between those who handled it well and those who gave up and started buying John Mayer albums. Maybe the best way to figure out how I’m handling 40 is to compare myself to some famous people who are also turning 40 this year:

Me vs. Dane Cook: We both have giant foreheads and look like a petty thief who got off on a technicality, but he’s turned his mediocre talent into a lucrative career. Advantage — Cook.

Me vs. Common: We both know how to spit on a mike, but I’ve got hair while he’s cultivating a “Hangin’ with Mr. Clean” kind of look. Still, he’s loaded so … Advantage — Common.

Me vs. Wayne Brady: I have this man beat on hair and street cred, but he once took Dave Chapelle’s sammich and made him cry. Advantage — Brady.

Me vs. Gwenyth Paltrow: I’ll concede she’s slightly better looking and more successful. On the other hand, she’s married to that clod from Coldplay and named her kid “Apple.” Advantage — Me.

Getting older is OK … so far. The way I feel, 40 is the new 39.

Jon Dawson’s columns appear every Tuesday and Thursday in The Free Press. Contact Jon at 252-559-1092 or jon.dawson@kinston.com. Purchase books, music and term papers at jondawson.com.